


From the First Time I Saw You

by Aurum_Auri



Series: Camboy Omegaverse [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AEOM backstory, Camboy Yuuri, Gamer Yuuri, M/M, One-sided YuuYu, camboy victor, dj otabek, gamer yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: Yuri didn't get where he was the easy way.





	From the First Time I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> Another Tumblr prompt! This time, it is about Otabek and Yuri's backstory in AEOM! Please enjoy!

Victor’s apartment smelled like dog. The summer heat did it no favours, and Yuri was already dying. Four weeks in LA. It felt more like four years. 

Yuri knew no one. 

His grandpa was six thousand miles away from him, his English was rough, and no one in this damned city gave half a shit about some baby alpha, fresh from presentation, who’d just landed stateside. Victor even made him enroll in high school. Yuri only agreed to go because Victor ratted him out to Grandpa when he argued.  There was nobody for him to talk to that wasn’t stupid Victor and Victor’s stupid friends. Things were supposed to get better when he got here. Things were supposed to improve. But they hadn’t, not really. 

He was angry and directionless and lost. Video games took some of the edge off, but they couldn’t take it away completely, only soften the aching culture clash and force him to practice his English. H e almost put his fist through the wall. Instead he dropped into his brand new desk chair (Victor bought it for him, like buying things was going to make adjusting to America any easier for him) and glared at his screen. 

He hated it here, but at least it wasn’t home. 

Victor said he loved America. Probably just liked being as far away from their entire fucked up little family as possible. But it was fine. America was fine. California was fine. Los Angeles would be fine, and Yuri would survive until he turned 18 and was free to wander wherever the hell he wanted in America. 

Yuri turned the computer on with a jab of his finger. His desktop sluggishly crawled to life, eventually giving way to an equally sluggish internet connection. At least there was one joy left in his life: shutting down shitholes arguing consoles. 

Three hours later, Yuri was deep into six different arguments on three different forums, and two of them had devolved into them tearing apart his grammar. Who was being childish now? And then this asshole KazahkDarkHorse96 was playing both sides and making them both look like damned fools. 

Yuri clicked over to the direct message option, his fingers hammering on the keys. 

**IceTiger: hey asshole what are you doing**

**KazahkDarkHorse96: Asshole? Me?**

**IceTiger: yeah you.**

**KazahkDarkHorse96: is this about the flame war**

**IceTiger: You fucking think? Pick a side**

**KazahkDarkHorse96: I think both consoles are great in their own ways**

**KazahkDarkHorse96: Why do I have to pick a side**

Yuri’s eye twitched. His hands flew to the computer.  _ ‘Because _ ’ he started to type, then he deleted it, sitting back. The cursor blinked for long moments. He closed the window. 

The thing was, normally assholes on the internet were just idiots who couldn’t tell a graphics card from a hard drive, and their opinions on games were garbage too. Yuri did his best to educate the sorry masses, but there was only so far he could reach. 

KazahkDarkHorse96 had made some good points. He was annoying as hell, but he was right. 

Yuri thought it would end at that. 

Weeks passed, and things didn’t get better. His grandpa wasn’t able to call often enough. His mother wanted nothing to do with him now that he’d left. The summer heat just kept getting worse. 

And then Yuri saw a familiar name on an MMO. 

It was an impossible stroke of fate. Two hours of waiting in the queue for a raid, and he ended up in the same party as someone with the username KazahkDarkHorse. Yuri squinted at the screen. “Well you bastard, let’s see how you play.”

And play he did.  _ Well _ . 

The others on their team were trash. The healer kept ‘forgetting’ to res the tank and the caster was ignoring all the telegraphing and standing knee deep in shit trying to cast one more spell. How many times do you have to wipe before the healer fucking learns.

But the thing was, aside from the shitty team, it could have been worse. KDH was surprisingly competent. He held on even when it was just the two of them. They almost won. 

The next raid, they did. 

**IceTiger: not bad**

**KazahkDarkHorse: not bad yourself.**

Yuri almost scowled. He sat back. He wondered what other games KDH played. 

Three weeks later, they were messaging regularly. 

Yuri didn’t do friends. Not back in Russia, and not here. Yuri didn’t talk to the others on his block. Those assholes liked to mock his accent and bad grammar anyway, and Yuri had better things to do than listen to them give him shit. 

But KazahkDarkHorse96 was  _ cool _ . 

He didn’t call Yuri stupid for messing up his English. KDH wasn’t stupid like the other people. He knew more about games than Yuri did, knew about music and the world and how life was. He wasn’t like stupid Victor, who pranced around on the internet with his dick out in a state of total oblivion. 

It wasn’t really something he realized at first. It was a casual mention of a visit to San Francisco Comic Con. It was Yuri saying he would be there too, and an offer to meet up. 

It was Victor telling him in that patronizing voice that he shouldn’t be meeting random strangers on the internet and then waving two plane tickets, like it would buy Yuri’s approval when Victor had already done more than enough just by giving him a roof and wifi that didn’t run on agreements and conditions. 

That was the day he met Otabek Altin. That was the day Otabek looked him in the eyes and said, “Well, we are friends, aren’t we?” so seriously. 

“Y-yeah,” Yuri said, surprised. 

Six months later, Yuri convinced Otabek to drop his first mixtape. Four weeks after that, Yuri started his channel.

It wasn’t a desire for fame, per se. Otabek just wanted to spread his music. Yuri just liked playing games, shittalking in public, and the attention of random strangers he’d never see again. 

It felt like a dream, almost. Yuri just did what he always did. Then came the followers. Otabek did some graphics and music for him, and Yuri kept going. Otabek picked up a stage name in DJBek, and Yuri stayed stubborn with IceTiger.

Yuri talked Otabek into trying out for some stupid American talent program. Otabek talked Yuri into taking on some sponsors, setting up ad revenue and subscription streams. Yuri had more money than he’d ever seen in his life, and all the games he could ever play.

He moved out of Victor’s apartment. He got the cat he always wanted. 

Suddenly he wasn’t paying to play games. People were paying him to play them. DJBek became a household name. People did remixes of his songs. Covers. Performances. 

They took each weekend up with watching them all, the good, the bad, and the stupid. When Yuri wasn’t recording streams and editing down videos into something watchable, he was digging into the competition.

It was important to see what worked, what didn’t, and what games audiences were getting excited over. 

Yuri wasn’t going to let anyone pass him. He’d had a taste of rising attention, and now Yuri wasn’t going to stop until his name was at the top of YouTube, the top of Twitch. 

Some people playing games were complete amateurs. The editing was shitty, the lighting was shitty, the camera angles unflattering. 

Yuri clicked another stream. Just as good as the last. That was to say, terrible. He clicked over to another. A half-naked omega was lounging in bed with a controller in hand, playing some button-mashing combo-chaining Japanese fighting game Yuri had played once or twice.

The omega rose up, revealing an unzipped jacket over a bare chest, dusky pink nipples peeking out from under the zipper. He was in dark blue lacy panties that did little to hide the obvious swell between his thighs. 

Yuri didn’t even bother to quiet his disgust. “Ugh.” One of  _ those _ gamers, the ones who relied on sex to sell their channel. Yuri was ready to click out when he froze.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. The omega just pulled off a quad combo with a backflip down kick. That was  _ impossible _ . That required frame perfect timing and endless practice. His eyes were racing, skating over the screen. Who the hell was this Let’s Player? Why the hell had Yuri never heard of him?

InnocentEros. Ok, ok, the guy had to have other videos posted somewhere. 

Yuri typed the name into YouTube. 

It autocompleted as one of the top search options. Yuri clicked. There was no gaming videos. No Let’s Plays. Nothing, except for a very substantial collection of pole dancing videos. Yuri almost didn’t click. He almost backspaced right then and there. 

Then he saw one titled with one of Otabek’s songs. He shouldn’t have clicked. He shouldn’t have. But it was too late. His mouse was over it, and the video started to play. 

Eros was gorgeous. Every twist of his body on the pole was a thing of beauty. His hair was sweaty, slicked back from his face, his face glittering with makeup.

Yuri fell. He would never escape. 

Of course. Of course Yuri would have a crush on a goddamn cam boy. Life loved ironies, and it loved to spit in his face. All the years of mocking Victor’s pastimes and income. Of course. 

 


End file.
